


Watch Your Mouth

by QueenAng



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 18:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20296048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenAng/pseuds/QueenAng
Summary: Pharma really needs to learn to watch his mouth.





	Watch Your Mouth

Cyclonus didn’t exactly have an opinion on Pharma, per se. He tolerated him, much like he tolerated the rest of the crew, though his take on the mad doctor was far less approving than his view on, say, Swerve. But Rodimus had declared Pharma part of the crew after Ratchet and the engineering mechs spoke on behalf of his intellect, and while he was far more restricted and supervised, seeing him still left a bad taste in Cyclonus’ mouth.

Against his better judgment, Tailgate had readily befriended this new mech. Cyclonus wasn’t surprised, but he also wasn’t happy. He quietly kept watch for another manipulator like Getaway to hide beneath Pharma’s careful mask of amicable pleasure. He voiced none of his suspicions to Tailgate, because he had spoken eagerly of him and, despite Cyclonus’ careful watching, Pharma had done nothing outrightly wrong.

Until now.

It was supposed to be a quiet evening in. After a brief life-and-death escapade that came with saving another planet, Cyclonus wanted nothing more than to curl up with Tailgate and kiss him until they both fell into peaceful recharge.

Of course, since this was the Lost Light, things did not actually happen that way.

Cyclonus kissed a gentle line down Tailgate’s exposed neck cables. The minibot’s fans were already whirring, so loud in the otherwise quiet room. He could feel the heated blue collar plating against his chin. One of Tailgate’s servos curled tight around his left horn, keeping him pressed against him – as if he needed any reinforcement.

“Hey, C— Cyclonus?” Tailgate murmured. Cyclonus could feel his voice-box running beneath his lips. “What’s a pleasurebot?”

Cyclonus stilled.

Tailgate, of course, had been online briefly as a maintenance bot before spending some few million years trapped underground. It would stand to reason there would be a few gaps in his knowledge, such as slang. But Rodimus was usually to blame for introducing new slang into Tailgate’s vocabulary, and given that Rodimus was almost always shadowed by Drift, Cyclonus doubted it came from his voice box.

He drew away from Tailgate’s neck, and Tailgate’s servo on his horn slid down to touch his shoulder instead. “Where did you hear that?”

Tailgate’s visor was wide. “Why?” he asked. “Is it something bad?”

“Tailgate.”

The minibot couldn’t frown, given his mask, but Cyclonus could feel the apprehension in his field. “Pharma and I were in Swerve’s, and he started guessing bots’ jobs on the ship, and I would tell him if he was right or not. Drift and Rodimus stopped by, and Pharma said, ‘_Oh, I know this one!_’ and pointed at Drift and said, ‘_He’s the ship’s pleasurebot_.’”

Cyclonus sat up.

Tailgate followed him into a sitting position, half in Cyclonus’ lap. “What does that mean? Is it like, a singer or something?”

Cyclonus gently removed Tailgate from his thigh onto the berth.

“Where are you going?” Tailgate asked quietly.

Cyclonus stood up and stretched. “To make an issue known to Captain Rodimus,” he said. “Just stay here. I’ll be back soon.”

* * *

He found Rodimus in his office, the door unlocked and not fully closed. The sound of his and Ultra Magnus’ voice, bickering back and forth, greeted him before he had even opened it. He slipped inside and shut the door. Drift was nowhere to be seen.

Rodimus fixed him with a glare. “I’m busy,” he said pointedly.

“You need to control the new medic,” Cyclonus said.

“Pharma?” Magnus said. “Has he done something?”

Cyclonus’ lip curled. “I just had Tailgate tell me of a conversation he and Pharma had, guessing crewmates’ functions. Apparently, Pharma found it appropriate to describe the captain’s amica as the ship’s pleasurebot.”

Rodimus stood up.

“Don’t,” Magnus began.

“I haven’t done anything,” Rodimus said.

“I found it apt to warn you,” Cyclonus said, “before word reaches the third in command or his medic.” Cyclonus tilted his helm toward Magnus. “Unless you look forward to breaking up an inevitable altercation.”

“No need,” Rodimus said. “I’ll handle this.”

“Rodimus—” Magnus started.

Rodimus had already left the room.

* * *

The Lost Light medbay was never boring, at least, thought Pharma, as he watched First Aid and Ratchet argue over the proper something of a whatchamacallit. Leaning against the counter in the back of the room, barely listening to the slightly heated exchange, he was reminded of his own time as Ratchet’s student. Those had been… interesting days. Long gone, now, along with the beloved Ratchet he once cared for.

The doors to the medbay beeped softly as they fell back, and the now-restored red and gold form of their captain swept in, all purposefully and such. He glanced around the medbay, then his optics locked on Pharma, and all Pharma could do was smirk as Rodimus quickly covered the distance between them and grabbed Pharma by the top of his chassis.

Never boring, indeed.

“Hey, now!” Ratchet called. “No fighting in the medbay!”

Rodimus pushed against Pharma, forcing his back to bend until he was pinned to the cold counter. Pharma ground his denta as pain shot through his spinal struts.

Rodimus pushed him hard against the counter, Pharma’s armor creaking under the pressure. “You call him a pleasurebot again,” he hissed. “A whore, a buymech, _whatever_” – he punctuated each word with a shove against Pharma’s chassis – “and I’ll give to Brainstorm to use for spare parts. I _promise_.”

“Rodimus!” Large servos grabbed Rodimus’ shoulders and hauled him off Pharma, pushing the medic out of his grasp as he did so. Rodimus didn’t bother fighting Ultra Magnus’ grip.

“_What_ is going on?” Ratchet yelled.

Rodimus didn’t hesitate. “He’s found it fit to tell crew members that Drift is some pleasurebot! Said it like that was his only function aboard the ship!”

Pharma had the nerve to look surprised. “Oh, that’s what this is about?” He put a hand over his spark. “You must forgive my mistake. It’s just that – when I knew him – well, he was just a buymech.”

“_You_—!”

“Enough!” snapped Ultra Magnus. He forced Rodimus into a seat beside one of the medical slabs. “Stay,” he hissed.

Rodimus just seethed.

Magnus turned to look at Pharma. “Circulating rumors about a commander is a violation of Code 11.61. I will issue a warning this time, but if it happens again, your amnesty is subject to revocation.”

“It’s hardly a rumor if it’s true,” Pharma replied.

“That’s _it_!” Rodimus shot out of his seat, only for one of Ultra Magnus’ servos on his shoulder to force him back down.

“Drift has no records before his time as a Decepticon,” Magnus continued. “For all I know, this is an unfounded rumor you began. Any attempts to spread it will be met with enforcement of the law, however the captain sees fit.”

“Do you think that big head of his will fit out the airlock?” Rodimus mused, and Magnus warningly pushed down on his shoulder.

“Unfounded?” Pharma echoed. “As though I’m the only one who knows?” His optics moved to Ratchet. “You treated him in the Dead End. You’ve seen his records. You know exactly what he was.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ratchet said coolly. “Wasn’t in any records I’ve seen.”

“Now, now.” Pharma glanced at Magnus. “Lying about a patient’s records to a fellow medical officer is a violation as well, isn’t it?”

“I cannot confirm Ratchet has spoken a lie,” Magnus said. “There exists no paperwork on Drift before his time as a Dece—”

“Well, Ratchet,” Pharma said loudly, “my mistake. I’m sorry.” He shrugged. “It’s really none of my business anyway. If you want a buymech warming your berth, that’s entirely your decision. But you have to tell me, is he at least a good frag?”

“That’s _enough_!” Magnus roared, before Ratchet could even respond.

The room fell into a heavy silence. Pharma could almost hear Rodimus’ joints groaning as he attempted to stand despite the pressure on his shoulder from Magnus. First Aid’s visor was bright with shock, and Ratchet was— well, he looked entirely impassive about the whole situation. But Pharma knew him too well— so angry he couldn’t even muster it up to look angry, let alone say something.

“Magnus!” Rodimus said. “I’m issuing an order as captain.”

“I’m listening, within reason,” Magnus said.

“If he goes anywhere near Drift, you throw him in the brig. No questions asked. He’s _done_.”

“Yes, captain.” Magnus looked at Pharma. “Do you understand these terms? You are not to be in any sort of contact with Drift.” He paused, then added, “To be on the safe side, I would recommend you refrain from mentioning him at all.”

Pharma ground his denta so hard he was surprised nothing dented. In a crackle of static, he spat, “Understood.”


End file.
